Murder: Cryogenesis

"Our sources have traced certain illegal exports to Hong Kong. This is where my company would like to begin the investigation. The reason we chose to approach you with the position of consulting expert is because you published a translation of Chinese poetry a few years ago, back in 2004--rather an extraordinary hobby for a man of science, but relevant for the purposes of our investigation. It may require a little field work, and we don't wish to rely upon translators. Words have a way of being lost or omitted, and information has a way of reaching the wrong ears. So you see, we need an expert who is fully capable of dealing with the Chinese officials on his own."

"Yes--I studied Mandarin at university--" Stott admitted, feeling as though Wentworth were waiting for him to say something in response.

"But you were born in Hong Kong, so I assume you speak some Cantonese as well. Don't tell me you haven't any desire to return to the country of your birth?"

From a remote part of his recollection, Max recalled the busy port city where he had lived until he was eight years old. The image struck him with such unexpected regret that he forgot his curiosity as to how Wentworth had collected all of this information about him.

"I'm an Englishman, Mr. Wentworth, and perfectly happy to remain right here on English soil," was all he said.

Wentworth detected the hesitation that belied Max's calm demeanor. "That's odd," he ruminated aloud for Max's benefit. "I thought your mother came from some small town outside Brussels. And your wife--isn't she French?"

"Listen, I haven't really got the time to take a leave of absence." Max started to object. "My research is at a crucial point, and then there's my entire project team to consider--"

"No, you listen, Doctor." Wentworth interrupted, in a voice that was suddenly cold and quiet.

Max stared at him, taken aback.

"The truth is, I work for the Minister of Trade in special assignments." Wentworth said.

"Special assignments?" Max wore a dubious expression.

Wentworth ignored his skepticism with well-practiced indifference. "Special assignments," he repeated patiently. "Let's leave it at that."

"You didn't mention who you really represented before," Max said.

"No, I didn't tell you anything before because you didn't need to know," Wentworth continued, deliberately detached.

"And now?" Max wondered.

"Now the British government needs your help. We have determined that you are the leading expert best qualified to resolve a dilemma that could lead to an international crisis."

"An international crisis?" Max's eyes strayed to the laconic American, Eddings. Eddings nodded dourly.

"Last month I worked as a government plant at Medcorps." Wentworth continued. "Our department has deduced that someone's using the Medcorps supply boats in the Far East to smuggle illegal materials from Hong Kong.

"Several months ago, the Hong Kong police were involved in a drug bust and stumbled into a small warehouse on the docks not far from Medcorps' storage facility. The warehouse was being used to store certain biological materials, but the Hong Kong police were unable to trace the supplier. The signature on the lease form was a fake, but the lease had been paid six months in advance with a large sum of cash, so no inquiry had been made at the time into the client's history.

"If Medcorps hadn't discovered a crate of the stuff on boardThe Victoria just before it shipped out for Singapore, the British government would have let the incident go. However Medcorps is anxious to prove their uninvolvement and has agreed to help finance an investigation into the matter. The Trade Ministry has decided that by no means are these materials to be allowed to reach Britain."